Page 11 of Bitten Vampire

I almost lose my footing but grab the door before we both hit the ground. He bounces, tugs, nudges; tug-tug again. The lead burns across my palm.

I shut the car, abandon the rest for now and let Baylor drag me towards our new home.

“You need to be good and respect this house,” I warn. “No shenanigans, Baylor. I mean it, best behaviour.” The gate swings open and Baylor hauls me to the front door, which opens for us.

“Thank you.”

Inside, he bounds around sniffing everything. I keep an eye on his back end, praying he doesn’t lift a leg against the furniture.

I cringe at what the house might think if he pees. “Please don’t pee, Baylor.” He’s normally good indoors, but who knows how magic might affect him? Emotional peeing is a thing, I’m sure.

“Can we… um, use the back garden?” Another door creaks open, so I follow it, Baylor towing me into the kitchen.

The room is spacious, with high ceilings and large windows pouring in light. The chequered tile continues from the hall. A faint scent of wood and herbs lingers. Wooden cabinets painted soft cream line the walls, their oak grain still visible, with brass handles that catch the light. A porcelain sink with old-fashioned brass taps takes pride of place beneath a window overlooking the garden.

We reach the back door—it swings open—and step into a neat courtyard enclosed by brick walls.

I scan the cottage-style garden for anything Baylor might destroy. No plastic chairs, no wooden fencing, just solid brick he can’t chew. The ward has kept the rain off here, too; the flagstones are dry. Baylor can play without getting filthy. I sigh with relief.

The flower borders are suspiciously bare: nothing but dark soil where green shoots should be. I narrow my eyes and mutter, “Did you strip the garden before we came out?”

A ripple of magic in the air feels like an answer.

Baylor watches me, ears pricked, tail wagging. “Be a good boy.” I unclip his lead and he rockets away, still brimming with energy despite his earlier walk. He darts to a far corner, sniffing intently. He’ll be there a while. “If he digs, I’ll grab a shovel and fill it in.”

Near the back door stands a metal bowl of water—courtesy of the house, apparently. I glance at it, then at the walls, gobsmacked. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful.”

I hurry back through the kitchen, down the hall, and out to the car. It will take time to unpack, and I’m not keen on everything getting more soaked.

When I reach the car, I roll up the windows and freeze—the passenger seat and footwell are empty.

“Someone stole everything,” I mutter, scanning the road. Then I see the boot is empty too. Did the house…? “That can’t be possible. Right?” My eyes take in the silent road, landing on a new feature. Apparently, it might be possible. I shake my head, unable to believe what I’m seeing.

In the time it took to settle Baylor in the garden, the house has somehow sprouted a driveway. And a garage.

Compared with that, unpacking the vehicle is nothing.

I move the car onto the new drive, lock it and head inside, feeling dazed. Shrugging off my coat and shoes, I hurry upstairs to find, sure enough, the house has taken everything from the car and put it away.

It has put everything away exactly how I like it.

All my clothes are clean, dry and arranged in colour order, largest to smallest, and sorted by season. It’s my odd little system.

The wizard’s house has also replaced my makeup and hairdryer. I stare, speechless. My bottom lip wobbles. I’m not crying—I’m definitely not crying. I grab a tissue from the dresser, dab my eyes, then blow my nose.

“Thank you. That’s really kind.” I pat the wall. “Thank you so much.”

I check the bathroom. Sure enough, everything is in place, hair products, soap, just as I like them.

“I’d better check on Baylor.”

I head for the back garden, so hurried I forget my shoes, but the thoughtful magic stirs again, and a moment later they are waiting by the door. The kindness stuns me. An unfamiliar sensation. “Thank you again.”

Baylor is still exploring. His tail wags when he spots me, and he flashes a big doggy grin.

I rest my head against the doorframe as the pressure in my chest finally eases. It has been a long time since either of us had something to smile about.

“You love the house and garden, buddy? I do too.”